


all i need is a bitter song

by thatiranianphantom



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017), Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Also I planned this whole damn fic, But I SWEAR the WE characters highly feature in the other chapters, Choni Wayhaught and Jerobin are just watching these chickadees like, ENSTRANGED, F/F, F/M, Have I ever finished a crossover, I'm about to harness the venn diagram of WE watchers and Riverdale watchers, It's a crossover fic!, My two shitshows crossing over a moment to admire the beauty, Not flying by the seat of my pants like normal, Oh gay squad must fix the sad peoples, So chapter one is basically all Riverdale, So like six people, This is not the way it will stay folks your humble author promises, Till I trip ass over teakettle into a plothole, Wyndoc and Bughead start this in the words of the great Eric Matthews, irrelevant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:34:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25643620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatiranianphantom/pseuds/thatiranianphantom
Summary: Everything Betty thought she was has been methodically ripped from her. She’s left the murder town, but she feels no less burdened. No mysteries. No friends. No arms chasing away the nightmares she’s never managed to shake.And then, on the first day she (quite literally) runs into Jughead, after five months, thirteen days, and six hours, they find a dead woman, and a baby.The woman carries a note.Alice Michelle. Keep her safe. Tell her I love her.Wynonna.15/7/2017Just one problem. The note is dated three years ago, and the baby is a newborn. In fact, the baby looks not to have aged a day.And when they find Wynonna, in her drunken, grieving glory, all sad eyes and harsh words, they are pulled into a new world.A world of magical beings called revenants and a fractured relationship with a man who looks at her the way Jughead used to (still does) look at Betty.It’s a different kind of mystery than they’re used to, but Betty and Jughead have never been able to refuse a mystery.And as the untangle the web surrounding the baby, will it lead either couple back to each other, or are some things just too broken to ever be fixed?
Relationships: Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones, Cheryl Blossom/Toni Topaz, Jeremy Chetri/Robin Jett, Waverly Earp/Nicole Haught, Wynonna Earp/Doc Holliday
Kudos: 21
Collections: 8th Bughead Fanfiction Awards - Nominees





	1. know myself in the place i am

**Author's Note:**

> SHE'S BACK AND STARTING A MULTICHAPTER!
> 
> Why, you may ask?
> 
> Management declines to comment. 
> 
> But you should know that management is very happy to see her two shitshows meet. 
> 
> Anyway. Do I ever write WE fic that doesn't involve Alice? No, and this is because we were deprived of Mom!Wynonna and that is a crime. The first chapter is basically all Riverdale, but we will crossover, don't you worry!
> 
> Things you should know about this:
> 
> \- I am playing with the WE timeline. This is mostly set after the S2 finale, but will involve some S3 elements, since it has been three years since Alice. Yes, I'm aware that after the Riverdale time jump it'll be 2025, but what is time on Riverdale? So this occurs in 2020.   
> \- Riverdale-wise, this is post time jump, so S5.   
> \- Pairings are basically the same as on the show.   
> \- This will be primarily Wyndoc and Bughead. Rest assured they will not always be this angsty. 
> 
> Enjoy my lovelies, and PLEASE leave a comment!

_ (Betty) _

It wasn’t that long. Really. Just over one semester. 

(Almost one-sixth of their relationship). 

Humans lived over 80 years. She had just barely cracked the beginning of her life without him. So little time. 

She had allowed herself a month of mourning. A solid month of crying, self-condemnation, and regret. 

It would be different if it were mutual. But it wasn’t. The heartbroken look on his face was proof of that. No, her cheating on him was about as one-sided as it could get. And then, on the flip side, her desperately trying to catch him in her arms, sobbing and begging him not to leave was about as one-sided as a breakup could get. 

It was stupid.  _ I  _ was stupid. It was a mistake.

Oh no, she can’t let her mind go to that day, because then it goes to  _ please don’t leave me, Juggie  _ and  _ I’m so sorry Juggie  _ and  _ I love you so much Juggie please give me another chance  _ and even sometimes  _ I won’t survive if you leave me, please no I’ll die if you leave me _ . 

But he did, and they went to college, and that was six months ago and she hasn’t seen him in five months, thirteen days and six hours. 

* * *

  
_**(Jughead)** _

He is at the beginning of a long life without her. But it was for the best. Really, it was. Things had taken the order they were always meant to. Betty and Archie. It was a cliche for a reason. It’s the girl next door and the boy next door, not the girl next door and the weirdo loner. He was an idiot for believing it could be different.

He was an idiot for believing it would be forever. 

An idiot for believing they’d be always. That he’d see her in a white dress, and he’d cry, but she’d cry too as they bound themselves together forever. That they’d lay out rat traps in an apartment that may as well be condemned, and make love on the floor. That he’d run his fingers over stretched skin and feel the kick of what they made together. 

No, he was a fool, and a bigger fool still for missing her. For longing for her. 

  
  


* * *

~~_(Both)_ ~~   
  


It’ll go away. They’re sure. One day it won’t hurt as much. 

* * *

  
_(Betty)_

She never sees him. 

Yale is an expansive campus. Two thousand freshman alone roam the campus, so she can, on some level, get why she never sees him. But it doesn’t mean she doesn’t look. 

She looks. Her heart still skips when she sees a flash of black hair. She hears a laugh that sounds like him, and her breath catches. 

It’s never him, though. 

  
He’s never been one for social media, and it’s not like they’re Facebook friends. Perhaps she should be grateful for that. She can’t torture herself by looking over photos of him. She wonders if he has pictures of him smiling.

She wonders if he smiles more now.

If he’s happier without her. 

Probably, he is. She broke his heart. She wonders if it will ever not be her biggest regret. 

He’s free at college. She’s sure he’s Facebook friends with girls. Girls who will treat him better. Girls he can see, can kiss, can take home.

She feels the urge to vomit. 

* * *

  
_**(Jughead)** _

He’s never seen himself as attractive. High school was when you explored that, right? He was essentially married all through high school, and really, when one had Betty Cooper, what use did he have of other girls? 

So he hadn’t really noticed other girls looking at him. Toni, once, he supposes. But Toni became essentially his sister. And he’s reasonably sure Cheryl would claw his eyes out if he so much as looked at her for one second too long. 

He’d never admit to her but he’s still fairly terrified of Cheryl. 

Girls come up to him now. They stroke his arm and bat their lashes at him. Somehow, telling them he just got out of a serious relationship seems to only spur them on. 

There’s been a few nice ones. There’s Annie, quiet and pretty, who sits in the corner of his statistics class with him and shares her notes sometimes. She’s fun to talk to, attractive and intelligent. He’d call them friends, perhaps. They go to the library together sometimes. He doesn’t think much of it. He has many female friends, and frankly, he finds the idea that men and women can’t be friends sexist and outdated. It’s nice to have a normal friend. He’s made a few good friends here, ones he can spend time with easily. An extensive social circle will never be him, but out of Riverdale, he’s sometimes still surprised he’s able to function so well. 

He’s almost getting used to it until one day, in the library, cheeks flaming, Annie leans in and presses her lips to his.

He jolts back. It doesn’t feel bad, it just feels...he doesn’t know. He feels nothing. 

But his chair scrapes back, and he thinks he hears a sob and then a door slam but maybe that’s just him. 

It’s stupid, especially now, but now he’s been kissed by someone who’s not Betty, for the first time since Toni. 

Betty isn’t his last kiss anymore. That shouldn’t hurt as much as it does.

But it  _ does  _ and he thinks he just needs a minute to process that. 

So he leaves his books and runs outside.

He throws his back up against the cold library wall, running his fingers through his hair, and  _ not  _ crying.

She  _ cheated  _ on him. 

It was the end. 

It’s over. 

That’s just a simple fact, a fact he’s had six months to accustom himself to. He should be past this. 

He doesn’t go collect his books until twenty minutes later. He’ll go for a walk, he thinks. Maybe in the park, between the trees.

Annie has left in that time. She was probably hiding from him so that tenuous friendship was gone. Jughead’s learned not to count on permanency at this point.

* * *

_(Betty)_

She was trying to catch up. She had a criminology class full of readings; she was trying to get ahead. Her roommate was a partier, and Betty didn’t usually mind, but for the fact that it sometimes made studying difficult. She was a nice girl, one of several friends Betty had made. But she didn’t take school as seriously as she perhaps should, so oftentimes, Betty made her way to the library. 

It was quiet, and she had been looking towards one of the study rooms when she heard it. 

She’d know that voice anywhere. Now, then, fifteen years in the future, since she was five years old, she knew that voice, and it had frozen her in her tracks.

Her stomach clenched painfully when she saw him, but more so seeing him not alone. 

She can only see the back of the girl’s head, but she imagines she is pretty. They’re sitting close together. He’s smiling. She hasn’t seen him smile in more than five months. She wants to look away, wants to not be here, wants the ground to open and swallow her up, but then she sees it. 

The girl presses her lips to Jughead’s. It’s soft, but Betty feels it in every pore of her body. It slides into her like a knife between her ribs, a knife someone twists.

He’s kissing someone in front of her. 

She can’t breathe, she can’t think, she barely remembers to keep hold of her books before she’s tearing out of the library, great heaving sobs ripping out of her.

Her vision blurs and somehow, she ends up among the trees in the park. 

It hurts. It hurts all over.

He’s moved on. He doesn’t love her anymore. That should not be a shock. 

She cheated on him, but it feels like her words to him may actually be real for the first time.

_ I won’t survive. If you leave me, I won’t survive.  _

She sobs loudly, not knowing how long it is before her hiccuping breath starts to calm. The sobs abate but the pain doesn’t. She wipes at her eyes. She feels removed from her own body, adrift. She’s barely conscious, but high pitched cries still ring in her ears. She lifts a hand to her own chest and feels no vibrations of sobs. 

It takes long minutes ticking by before she’s aware enough to realize the sobs are not hers. And more so, that they are not the heartbroken cries of an adult. They’re too high, too frequent. They sound...it sounds like a baby. 

It takes time to register, to see anything past the pain but is she not crazy? Does she hear a baby crying? She stashes her books behind a tree trunk and follows the sound. 

The journey towards the source of the cry harkens back a feeling she hasn’t felt in months. To investigate, to search for a mystery, it shoots a secret thrill through her.

It’s a pile of leaves she can spot at the end of the path, and it’s moving. She breaks into a run, decidedly not paying attention to anything around her. 

She knows that to be true because the smack as she hits another body knocks her flat on her ass. 

And that doesn’t make her heart stop, but looking at the face of the person she just body checked does.

“Jug…” she breathes, then immediately rethinks it. Maybe she shouldn’t use a nickname. It’s been five months. She cheated on him. They didn’t stand on familiarity anymore. 

He barely meets her eyes. “Betty.” In itself, a nickname, but he’s never called her anything else.

There’s a moment, and it’s awkward before she presses the conversation forward. This, getting to talk to him, it’s a privilege. Her heart is still pounding at seeing him.

He looks exactly the same. Perhaps a bit more tan. Thinner, maybe. But he still makes her blood race through her heart. 

“What are you doing here?”

He doesn’t look her in the eye. That’s fine. She hasn’t earned that.

“I heard a noise.” 

She furrows her brow. “You heard a noise?”

He nods. “An animal, maybe. I heard a cry.” 

So it isn’t just her. It’s oddly relieving, which is a welcome feeling in the awkwardness. And then the cry starts again, and both of them happen towards the sound. In sync, Betty notes. A little like it used to be. The thought creates a pang in her stomach, and then it turns over at the scene they find.

It’s a baby, yes. A newborn, wrapped in a black floral blanket, wailing, its face red and scrunched. 

And beside the baby, a woman. She’s older, her hair cropped and grey. Betty swallows hard as she observes the woman’s open-eyed gaze, her still chest, and the unnatural angle her head is twisted at. 

Jughead swears softly under his breath, pressing his fingers to the woman’s neck to confirm what they both already know. 

“She’s dead. Cold.” The words are no surprise, but still, Betty swallows down vomit.

The baby lets out a pathetic little whine, and Betty can stand it no longer.

* * *

_**(Jughead)** _

He knows its not proper evidence procedure. There could be evidence on the baby; he knows that she knows that, but the baby is screaming out for comfort. The baby has likely been there for hours, cold and alone, so Betty cuddles it close to her chest, whispering gentle words of comfort, and something inside Jughead tightens up so painfully that he has to look away. 

Betty rocks the baby gently, and they both pull out their phones. 

It comforts something deep within him to know that they don’t even need to say it anymore. Both of them begin noting down the evidence they see, photographing the scene, the body, and the baby. As Betty shifts, a piece of paper floats down to the ground, disentangling from the baby’s blanket. 

He leans down and picks it up. It’s a note, handwritten, just a few words printed on it. 

_ Alice Michelle. Keep her safe. Tell her I love her.  _

_ Wynonna _

And below it, a date.

_ 15/7/2017. _

July 15th, 2017. Almost three years ago. That was this baby; something inside him knew it. He looks at Betty, for once meeting the green eyes he’s gazed into so many times before, and he can see, she knows it too. 

There’s a little sentence on the back. So small, it’s barely readable. 

_ Nobody looking for an Earp can ever find her.  _

“Alice,” she coos to the baby. “Alice Michelle. Is that your name?”

The baby clenches a tiny fist around Betty’s shirt in response. 

“The note, Betty.” he slips it into his pocket. “It was dated three years ago. This baby is no more than a few days old.” 

Betty nods. “I know. But it’s her, Jughead. I...I feel it. Don’t you?”

He does, and that feels a bit too much like connection. It feels a bit too much like a case to work, too close to  _ Betty and Jughead  _ again. He’s left that behind. 

It’s a distracting thought. So distracting, in fact, that neither of them hears the footsteps behind them and turns around before the world goes black, and the last thing he hears is Betty’s scream and Alice Michelle’s terrified wails. 

* * *

_ (Betty) _

When the world comes back to living color, she has a pounding headache, and they’re still in the woods. 

That’s the first thing she notices. The second is her head, which is situated so close to Jughead that she can see his chest moving up and down. He’s alive. It’s an immediate comfort. 

And the third, and perhaps most critical thing, is that her arms are empty. 

The baby is gone. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The next few hours move in a painful loop. Her head throbs painfully, but she’s okay. More importantly, Jughead is okay. And there’s a new steely determination in his eyes, one he must also see reflected in hers. It feels almost like they’ve been chosen, like they’ve been handed a new mission. 

Neither of them hesitates to take it. They will investigate, like so many times in the past. However, unlike the past, this time, they are two separate entities. Not Betty and Jughead, but Betty, and Jughead. Separated by a comma, a breath, and what feels like a thousand miles. 

  
  


The baby is gone, but their phones remain in their pockets, and the note feels as if it is burning a hole in Jughead’s jeans. 

_ Keep her safe. Tell her I love her.  _

_ Wynonna.  _

* * *

They meet an hour later at a coffee shop, a wide berth between their chairs. There’s a last name on the back of the note. Earp, it says.

“Like Wyatt Earp?” Jughead wonders, before dismissing it. They’ve seen some crazy things, but a long-dead gunslinger? Crazy even for them. 

They put the last name and the first name together, into Google.

_ Wynonna Earp _ and Google lights up. 

It’s a woman from Canada. Most of what they find are arrest records and small-town articles about what a troublemaking teen she was. There’s a particularly chilling article about a home invasion. One dead, a Ward Earp. Two children taken into custody, names redacted due to minor status, but they all come from the same small town. 

That’s the next Google search. 

Purgatory, Alberta. A few hours north of Calgary. 

Betty and Jughead meet eyes. This. This is their lead. They need to follow this, because there’s a tiny baby out there, and they have no other leads. These people, they may know where this baby is and where to find her. 

There are no phone numbers, no emails, barely any identifying information. An info search for “Wynonna Earp of Purgatory, Alberta” comes up blank. They spend an hour calling around, with no results. 

And at the end, both of them know what comes next. 

* * *

In high school, Betty and Jughead were not what one would call the most regular of students. Mysteries demanded time, and thus, a list of excuses a mile long for missing school was formulated.

(Betty still remembers being an hour late simply to visit Jughead during Bret’s morning workouts. It still sends a shiver through her.) 

Despite the awkwardness, they still technically share a family. Families have been known to have emergencies. And Betty has always been great at forging Alice’s signature. That hasn’t left her, and she uses it to forge the note saying they have to go home due to a death in the family.

They don’t sit next to each other on the plane. The seat in between them feels like a gaping chasm, and she aches with how much she misses him. The memories of the three years they spent together have started to blur around the edges. 

Calgary is cold, and the land stretches out endlessly. It’s early evening by the time they arrive in Purgatory. It’s a small town, which is a bit of a relief. They’re from Riverdale. People from small towns talk easily, and the residents of Purgatory are no exception. Their lips curl in disgust as they direct Betty and Jughead to a farmhouse on the edge of town. 

* * *

_**(Jughead)** _   
  
  


Jughead takes a deep breath before knocking on the door. 

A small brunette with a friendly-looking smile answers, and looks surprised to see two strangers at the door. She holds it mostly closed as they introduce themselves, and tell her they found a baby. 

She doesn’t seem to see the relevance until they ask her if a Wynonna lives her. Her face closes off. 

“You need to leave,” she says firmly. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but you’re not welcome here.” 

The door is almost shut before the note is out of his pocket and in the woman’s face.

She reads it, and her face turns ashen. 

“Where did you get this?” she whispers.

“From the baby we need to find,” says Betty. 

The woman looks confused. “Baby?”

Jughead nods. “Not a few days old.”

The woman sucks in a breath. “But that makes no sense, it was…” 

The door opens a crack more, and the woman looks them up and down. 

“You two found something.” It’s not so much a question as a statement. 

The door opens a bit wider. 

“I think you should come in.” 


	2. all i need to write

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betty and Jughead are interrogated quickly. The people are friendly enough, but there is a palpable air of suspicion. 
> 
> The note is taken from their hands. Waverly and Nicole scrutinize it carefully, heads bent together, until they are joined by Robin and Jeremy. Betty and Jughead actually feel quite left out, especially when seated as far away from each other at the table as they can. 
> 
> (Betty had seen Nicole’s eyebrows twitch at this seating arrangement, but she said nothing.)
> 
> We meet the Purgatory gang and some are faring better than others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter up! This is an accomplishment! 
> 
> So in this chapter, we meet the Purgatory gang. That is, the Wynonna Earp characters. Again, this is mostly Bughead and Wyndoc, and while neither is in a good place right now, they will be! 
> 
> As always, you can come tumble with me at thatiranianphantom dot tumblr dot com.

Jughead is glad he slept on the plane, because the rest of the evening is spent poring over every last case detail with these new people.

The young woman who let them in has long brown hair and gentle eyes. She introduces herself as Waverly. She’s bright and friendly, immediately sitting them down and offering them “coffee, tea, juice, water, pop, whatever you want!”

Her voice gets higher with every word, until a tall redheaded woman slides an arm around her waist and presses a kiss to her head. The young woman exhales and visibly relaxes. 

  
The redhead is a bit more of a calm presence, and she introduces herself as “Sheriff Nicole Haught.” 

She looks very young to be a sheriff, something Betty can’t help but comment on. Nicole is not offended though, and shortly comments that she has “seen a lot of shit that most sheriffs wouldn’t.” 

There are two young men sitting at the table with them, one dark-haired, hunched over a book, mumbling to himself, and one who appears to be trying to calm him down, gently taking his fingers and rubbing a thumb over them.

Jeremy Chetri and Robin Jett, they learn. 

(There seems to be an endless stream of people who live in this house.)

* * *

  
  


Betty and Jughead are interrogated quickly. The people are friendly enough, but there is a palpable air of suspicion. 

The note is taken from their hands. Waverly and Nicole scrutinize it carefully, heads bent together, until they are joined by Robin and Jeremy. Betty and Jughead actually feel quite left out, especially when seated as far away from each other at the table as they can. 

(Betty had seen Nicole’s eyebrows twitch at this seating arrangement, but she said nothing.)

There’s snatches of the conversation they catch, but the most important one is “have to figure out how to tell them.”

The note had only mentioned one person, so “them” is confusing. Confusing enough to finally interject. 

“What do you mean ‘them’?” 

Four heads snap towards them, then look at each other with trepidation. They seem to be in a standoff on who will speak, when Waverly finally clears her throat. 

“This note,” she says hesitantly. “My sister wrote this note.”

That’s not a huge shock, but they don’t see her sister, and there’s still a baby out there who needs their help. 

“Your sister...is this her baby?” 

There’s another long hesitation before Waverly confirms “yes.” Nicole gives her hand a squeeze. Waverly slides in beside Betty and Jughead, a note of sadness in her eyes. 

“You said you found this on a baby?”

Jughead nods. “Few days old, at the most.” 

Everyone looks entirely confused. “But this note was...it went with her three years ago.” 

That is a bit more of a shock. There was no way that baby was three years old, even though the note is rumpled and battered.

Perhaps the note had nothing to do with the baby? Betty flips in her phone to a picture of the infant, and slides it over to Waverly. 

“Is this your sister’s baby?”

There’s an audible gasp when Waverly looks at the photo, and her eyes well with tears. 

“Yes,” she whispers. “That’s Alice. But I don’t...get it. Alice should be a toddler by now. Gus never said anything was wrong, how is it that...she looks like she hasn’t aged a day?”

They have no answers. The mention of someone named Gus, though, that piques Betty’s interest. Perhaps that was the dead woman with the baby. 

“The baby wasn’t alone.”

Waverly’s back straightens instantly. “She wasn’t?”

This is the part Betty always hates. It strikes her, as it sometimes does, why a 19-year-old college student has told more family members that their loved ones are gone than some police officers. But this is the life she chose, she supposes. 

“She was with a woman. An older woman. Gray hair, cropped short. Smaller. Dressed in plaid, kind of plain.”

Waverly’s face has gone pale. “Do you have a picture?”

Nicole curls a hand into Waverly’s. “Baby..” she murmurs, but Waverly shakes her head. 

“No, Nicole. I have to know.” 

As soon as she sees the picture, a sob rips out of the tiny woman, and her girlfriend curls around her. 

There’s a palpably tense silence as the young woman sobs, and her girlfriend whispers soothing words in her ear. 

When she finally turns back to them, her face is drawn and pale. 

“That’s Gus,” Waverly’s voice shakes with tears. “They killed Gus.” 

Jeremy leans into Betty and Jughead a bit closer. “Gus took Alice right after she was born.” 

“ _ Why?”  _ is their only question, and Jeremy appears ready to answer, before a hand clamps down on his shoulder, and a deep voice with an old-fashioned drawl speaks. 

“And who,” the voice says, “might these people be?” 

* * *

  
  


The man has a formidable mustache, that’s the first thing Jughead notices. He introduces himself as “John Henry Holliday, but most people call me Doc.” 

“Doc...Holliday?” Jughead repeats slowly. “Like... _ Doc Holliday  _ Doc Holliday?”

“Something like that,” Nicole cuts in. “Doc, why don’t you sit down?”

He’s dressed oddly, they notice. Like an old western gunslinger, with his guns around his hips and a Stenson on his head. He speaks in a southern drawl, in the cadence of someone from 100 years ago.

They ask him to sit, but he refuses. His blue eyes scrutinize their face, and Jughead knows he doesn’t miss the worried expressions. 

“I will ask you what has caused the alarm I see on your face,” he says, as Waverly tries and fails to neutralize her expression.

She sputters for a few minutes, as Doc’s eyes swivel to the room’s occupants, then settle on Betty and Jughead. 

“Too many drinks, Waves?” 

Another voice calls from the door, and there stands a woman, her brown hair askew, leather jacket and tight pants entirely inappropriate for the weather. 

She strides unevenly into the room, and nobody misses how Doc’s blue eyes train on her immediately, though he says nothing. 

The woman throws herself into a seat at the table, fingers passing through her thick brown hair. Her blue eyes are bloodshot, clearly drunk. She’s slim, verging on too slim. Her fingers clumsily grab for the bottle on the table. 

“Ah, you brought dinner!” she exclaims.

(Betty doesn’t miss the look Waverly and Nicole exchange.)

Waverly drops into the seat beside her sister, laying a hand on hers. 

“Wynonna,” she says nervously. “We have...something to tell you.” 

So this is Wynonna. She's not quite what they expected, but then, what can one expect of a woman who was forced into relinquishing her child? 

Wynonna looks up at her, gaze flicking briefly to Betty and Jughead, then, for a second, to Doc in the corner. Her eyes darken at him, before going back to Waverly. 

“Looks serious, Waves. That why you’ve brought in the kids?” she swings an arm to indicate Betty and Jughead. 

Waverly heaves a sigh. “Wynonna, they showed up here. They...found something. Or someone, I suppose. Maybe a few someones.” 

Waverly doesn’t strike them as someone who lies easily. She seems to wear her emotions straight out, the opposite of her drunk, disheveled sister. 

“‘Someones’ mean more demons? Because I gotta tell you Waves, that’s not exactly newsworthy.” 

Waverly shakes her head. “Not demons, Wynonna.”

She seems to be struggling to get it out. Betty and Jughead watch her stumble over her words for a few moments, starting sentences and trailing off. Most sentences start like “it’s important to not panic” and “they’re sure it was them” and “we’re going to find her, don’t worry” and with every aborted attempt, Wynonna straightens more and more. 

  
It’s when she stands, eyes full of suspicion, that Jeremy finally blurts it out. “They found Alice, Wynonna.” 

The reaction is immediate. The woman was drunk and flippant before, but it’s as if in that one moment, her entire body is hit by a bolt of electricity. The name hardens her shoulders into a straight line, positions her neck ramrod straight, and clamps her arms down by her sides. 

A similar effect overtakes Doc. His eyes darken, his face closes off, and his gaze moves to Wynonna, where it stays. 

Nobody says anything until finally, Nicole breaks the silence. 

“Wynonna, they’re here because they found Alice. They found a baby, they found the note, and they...they found Gus.”

Wynonna’s head moves down in a short jerk. “Dead?” It’s said without emotion, and Nicole gives a hesitant nod. 

(Jughead also hears Waverly sniffle.) 

“And? Where...where is she?” Her voice takes on the shortest note of vulnerability, and her eyes give a tiny swivel. She’s looking for her baby, Betty sees. It sinks her stomach. This woman and this man, she sees more hurt in their eyes than most. And now they have to add to it. 

“They found the note with Alice, Wynonna. And then something knocked them out, and she was...she was gone.”

That, also, has an immediate effect. Wynonna’s eyes are bright and shining. They see anger, fear, trepidation. She looks like a mother, and it’s shattering. 

“What the hell do you mean, she was gone?”

Wynonna steps closer to Nicole, her step tight and intimidating. 

“I mean, when they woke up, she was gone. They searched, but they couldn’t find her. So they came to us.” 

Doc also strides closer, his entire face changed. “So she is simply...out there? But three years old, and alone without a soul?”

Nicole gives a noticeable wince. “That’s...that’s the other thing. Who they found wasn’t a three year old. It was Alice, but she was a baby. A newborn, still.” 

Wynonna passes a hand through her long hair. “How is that...how is that possible? It’s been three years, Haught.” 

Nicole reaches out to put a hand on Wynonna’s shoulder, but she jerks away. “I know. I know, Wynonna. But we will - hey.” Wynonna has pulled away, but Nicole follows her, laying a hand on her shoulder. 

“We will find her, Wynonna. I promise.” 

It’s a moment of silence that follows. Both Wynonna and Doc look vulnerable, eyes bright and filled with tears. It’s all the more apparent, because they can note the exact moment her expression closes. 

“Right. You’ll find her. Because standing around a table with two kids, that’s going to make her materialize, like magic. You’ve really got it covered like always, Sheriff Haughtpants.” 

It’s spat angrily, but it doesn’t seem to faze Nicole. 

“Wynonna, I promise…”

“No,  _ fuck _ your promises. When have they ever done shit around here? I’ve gotta…” She spins around, a few tears falling. “I’ve gotta go and…”

It’s then that Doc finally speaks. 

On a scoff, he retorts. “I would wager that you are not capable of doing more than standing at the current moment.” 

Wynonna’s eyes flare with anger. She strides up to Doc, sticking a finger into his chest. “And you are, oh great and useless cowboy? What actual contribution have you made?”

He knocks her hand away, eyes blazing. “As I recall, I was not given the chance to make that decision for myself.” 

“And for the best! What would you have ever had to contribute to a child? Tales of murder? Secret wives showing up? Monumentally stupid, selfish decisions that fuck all of our lives up?”

He jets up close to her, their faces pressed together.    
  


“Do you think,” he seethes. “That you are the better option?”

“ _ Stop _ !” Waverly cries, attemptin to wrestle her body in between the two. “This isn’t helping, and we’re working on borrowed time. We need to just…”

Wynonna wrenches her body away. “We don’t need to do anything, baby girl. I’ve gotta..shit, I’ve gotta…” and with that, she’s gone, the screen door sending in a gust of wind as she leaves. Doc sweeps out in the other direction, ripping his hat from his head. 

* * *

  
  


Waverly sits down and sighs, head falling into her hands. 

Nicole rubs her shoulders, and the kitchen falls into silence. 

Jeremy finally sidles up beside Jughead. 

“They haven’t really spoken since…it happened,” he offers.

“That was a pretty intense standoff.” It’s an understatement. The confrontation they just witnessed was laden with things unspoken. It’s a theme he’s not unfamiliar with. 

Nicole nods. “They work together, if they have to, but that’s it. They glare at each other, sometimes it looks like they want to talk, and sometimes it looks like…”

She raises her eyebrows suggestively and trails off. 

“They’ve never been able to get over the baby,” Jeremy fills in. “Not in three years.” 

“And he’s still here?” Jughead asks. “Why?”

Everyone is silent for a moment. “He’s part of the team. For better or worse. And as mad as he is at her, I think he has never even considered leaving her.”

* * *

  
  


She’s a detective. She’s questioned many people. But this is a woman whose baby has been ripped from her, and then gone missing. Betty can only imagine how worried she is. She must be going crazy, she imagines. 

Waverly goes out to talk to Wynonna (it’s unsuccessful, is the report they hear back later), and Nicole splits them into teams. Divide and conquer, she says, has its benefits, but don’t divide too much. Her gaze is perceptive, and the fact that Betty and Jughead are split into opposite teams is probably not coincidental. Nonetheless, Betty is told she can search with Doc and Nicole tomorrow, while Jughead will go with Robin, Waverly and Jeremy. 

They make up two air mattresses on opposite ends of the living room for them to sleep on, and Jughead dares to hope that’s as much action as he’ll see tonight. 

Look, in the last few days  _ alone _ , Jughead and Betty have been through a lot of very weird stuff. In the last three years, even more. 

  
And yet when the door blazes open in a gust of wind and he sees a glimpse of red, his mind cannot believe it. 

“You actually thought you could jet off to Canada without me?”

It’s a voice he recognizes, though he sorely wishes he didn’t. 

“Please don’t be true,” he mutters under his breath. 

Sadly, it is. The distinctive mix of red and black heads of hair is a dead giveaway, so Jughead searches his mind for  _ any _ reason that Cheryl Blossom and Toni Topaz would show up at a farm country in Canada.

Per usual, Cheryl strides in the house like she owns it, casting a mildly horrified look around. 

“Small and decor-less. How did I know this would be where I’d find the hobo?” She casts an eye on Jeremy and Robin (both of whom look terrified), and her face fixes into a wide smile. 

“Fellow gays,” she cries. “This place is better already.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look I am so excited for the gay squad. Cheryl would railroad Jeremy and we love to see it.

**Author's Note:**

> Next chapter we meet our Purgatory peeps!
> 
> Also in case it wasn't clear, that was Waverly at the door.


End file.
